Outback Man Seeks Wife

‘How do you know I don’t want you for myself?’ He unfolded a slow smile, keeping his tone light.

Hectic colour swept into her cheeks, enhancing her beauty. ‘I’m sorry, Clay, but I’m taken.’

‘Have you set a date for the wedding?’ he asked, with interest.

‘Why aren’t you married?’ she countered, aware something potentially dangerous was smouldering between them.

‘Because I believe a man has to be able to provide for a wife before he embarks on matrimony.’

She realised she was becoming agitated. She had to rein herself in. ‘The rumour around town is you’re looking for a wife. Could that possibly be right?’

His smile was self mocking. ‘You might very well see me on the doorstep of the Bulletin some time soon. I understand you’re Pat Kennedy’s right hand woman. You can help me run an ad. “Bush Bachelor Seeks A Wife!” You could advise me what to say, maybe help me read through what replies come in.’

‘You’re joking!’ She felt an odd anger.

Clay’s blue, blue eyes were alight with what? Devilment? A taunt? He was still holding her lightly but she was starting to feel she couldn’t breathe.

‘I couldn’t be more serious,’ he replied. ‘I want a wife beside me. I want children. I’ve been so flat-out working all my life, I’ve had little time to play the courting game. Besides, eligible young women aren’t all that easy to find. I thought an ad might work. It would certainly speed things up.’

He was obviously waiting for her response.

It came out soft but tart. ‘Why don’t you simply walk up to one of the girls here?’ Carrie challenged him, wishing she was older, taller, more experienced. As it was she was a little afraid of him.

He wasn’t smiling. ‘Forgive me, but it’s hard to see past you.’

That transfixed her. She, so light on her feet, a lovely dancer, missed a step, nearly causing him to tread on her toe. ‘Must I remind you that I’m taken?’ she said as though he had broken a strict rule.

‘So you are!’ His voice was deeply regretful.

What should she do? Walk away? Abandon him on the dance floor? She didn’t want to. At the same time she knew she had to.

Run, run away! Far from temptation!

‘Give yourself plenty of time to make sure it’s going to work.’ He steered her away from a whirling couple.

‘Is that a warning?’ This man was deliberately casting a spell on her. To what end?

‘I don’t see the two of you together,’ he said.

‘How can you possibly judge?’ Despite herself she began to compare him with Scott. It was something she couldn’t control. ‘You don’t know me and you don’t know Scott. We have a fine future ahead of us.’

‘Why, then, the fright in your eyes? If he’s the love of your life?’

There was such a whirring inside her. It was as though some part of her hitherto not properly in working order, suddenly sprang into life. ‘Why are we talking like this, Clay? It’s getting very personal and private.’ Not to say out of order.

‘I told you. I don’t have much time. Besides, I feel I could talk to you far into the night.’

‘You’ve just told me why.’ She pointed out, not without sarcasm. ‘You’re lonely.’

‘It’s possible that’s part of it,’ he agreed smoothly.

Carrie sucked in her breath; waited a moment. ‘I must tell you I wouldn’t have agreed to marry Scott if I didn’t love him.’ Now her voice sounded stilted.

‘As I said, Harper is a very lucky man.’

This was too much. Just too much. She couldn’t play this game if that’s what it was. Dancing with him wasn’t the same as dancing with Scott. Or any other man for that matter. She could feel the blood beating in her throat, in her breasts, in the pit of her stomach. She had never been so breathtakingly conscious of her own flesh.

The same tipsy couple almost careened into them. Clay’s arm tightened around her as he swiftly drew her out of harm’s way.

She knew it was well past the time to break away, but she made the excuse to herself that would only draw attention to them. So change the subject quickly! ‘You’re not planning to leave, then?’

‘Caroline, I’ve just arrived,’ he replied, mock-plaintively.

‘Everyone calls me Carrie.’ She spoke as if to correct him when in reality the sound of her name on his lips was like a bell tolling inside her.

‘I’m not everyone,’ he said quietly. ‘Carrie is pretty. Caroline suits you better.’

‘What if I say I want you to call me Carrie?’

‘All right, Carrie.’ He smiled. ‘I’ll call you Caroline whenever I get the chance.’

It was totally unnerving how dramatically he was getting to her. ‘I used to think when I was little that Jimboorie House was a palace.’

‘So did I.’ Again his glance like blue flame rested on her.

‘You have more than a trace of an English accent. Where did that come from?’

He looked over her blond head. ‘From my mother I guess. She was Anglo-Irish and well spoken—and lovely. My father’s appallingly cruel family had no right to treat her the way they did. They turned all their fury on her because my father abandoned them for her. The accent would have been reinforced by long contact with my late mentor who was English. I became very close to him.’

‘Was he the one who presented you with Lightning Boy?’ She wanted to know all about him.

He nodded. ‘Yes, he was. He handed Lightning Boy over a couple of months before he died.’

She read the grief in his glance. ‘What did you do? Did you work for him?’

‘I was proud to,’ he said briefly, his tone a little curt. ‘My boss and mentor.’

‘Are you going to tell me his name?’

‘No, Caroline.’ He refused her. At the same time his gaze gathered her up.

‘I’m sorry.’ She glanced across the dance floor at all the glowing, happy faces. This would go on into the wee hours. ‘I won’t intrude. I’m just glad you met someone who treated you well.’

‘I can’t recall many others.’ His expression was openly bitter.

‘Are you going to make us all pay for wounding you?’ she asked, thinking he had been hurt a great deal.

He ignored her question. ‘I’d like to take you out to Jimboorie. Would you come?’